Look Out

When we crawl out, into the world, and seek the wisdom and nuance of another–maybe their words and lessons, or their beliefs and attributes, we run a grave risk. It lies not in the seeking, nor the lesson itself, but rather in the unintentional parking of oneself in the glow of another we perceive to be bigger, brighter, and more complete.

We may feel warm from the glow and promise. There may even be a sensation of blossoming–of becoming. And this can be beneficial, as long as we do not allow our roots to rot, our own path to grow over, and our personal momentum to seize and rust.

Perhaps it is worth considering, even if for one brief moment, that we are complete just as we stand. Perhaps the messages we seek are simply fun distractions and encouragements, to be enjoyed lightly. If this is too scary, and you are swift to sweep the idea away, then maybe it cuts close to the bone–the one that keeps you from happily filling the shape you are, right now, because that shape does not feel good enough.

There is a fine line between challenging oneself and obstructing oneself from wholeness.

We all have the ability, and the right, to fulfill our own, blessedly mundane, everyday sacred. Most often, the gurus we subscribe to are seeking to fill the same and certain mortal holes inside, drop by drop, in their own ways. Our teachers are willing helpers, not meant to take responsibility for our growth and development.

They are people, just like you and I–complete, incomplete, and yet unfolding. When we honor this, we do not elevate them to so lofty a position that they tumble, harming themselves, and us, in the process.

Today, consider an act of great self love, no matter how small. Shake off some rust you may have allowed to accumulate. Send thoughts of love, homage, and kindness to the many teachers you have, and take a quick look down your dusty path, alone. Perhaps you can take one step there, however wobbly, and start to trust the guru inside.